


Alfredo Diaz, Neighborhood Watch

by peantutbutter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack Pattillo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peantutbutter/pseuds/peantutbutter
Summary: Alfredo takes his role as part of the neighborhood watch very seriously.Maybe a little too seriously...(Inspired by the Scotland Yard Let's Roll)EDIT: Made minor adjustments, namely changing a certain name and changing a certain alias in order to distance this fic slightly from a certain cockroach.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	Alfredo Diaz, Neighborhood Watch

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the Scotland Yard Let's Roll, and was born mostly by the mental image of Alfredo, a member of the neighborhood watch, being the one to catch the big bad criminal. Y'know...rather than the police. Thought it made for some good FAHC content. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: Made minor adjustments, namely changing a certain name and changing a certain alias in order to distance this fic slightly from a certain cockroach.

Everyone tells Alfredo that he takes his position on the neighborhood watch way too seriously. 

“You don’t need to drop everything at ten pm because some kid comes knocking asking if you’ve seen their cat,” the man next door grouses, bleary eyed and dressed in his bath robe. But Alfredo already has a flashlight and tin of tuna. The poor girl’s tears has subsided now that she’s found someone to help her. 

“He’s not your child, why are you even bothering? If he’s really missing, just let the police take care of it,” the lady across the street says, exhaling cigarette smoke in his face. He bites his tongue and doesn’t tell her that the kid has been known to run away on occasion. He doesn’t tell her about how the parents are going through a messy divorce and the poor guy is caught in the middle. The lady scoffs at him for not responding, but she turns away and heads back inside, and he continues patrolling the block. It takes him a few hours, but he finds the little man and treats him to some Dairy Queen before bringing him home and reminding him he’s loved, cared for, and if he ever needs anything, just call.

Alfredo Diaz cares about his neighborhood because after getting out of the military, it’s all he has. 

The people around here like him. He’s helpful, kind, good with their kids, and more importantly, good at keeping their kids out of trouble. Even the teenage ruffians know better than to get up to hijinks when Alfredo’s around. Not because they’re afraid he’ll call the cops on them or anything, but more because they don’t want to disappoint him.

And also because sometimes he bought them beer and would hang out and tell war stories from his time in the military. 

He’s a goddamn pillar of the community, he does his best to set an example for as many people as he can. Good role models are hard to come by in Los Santos. 

He’s spent the past few hours sitting on the porch of his home, listening to the police scanner. The Fakes had hit a jewelry store a few miles north of the neighborhood. Far enough away that there aren’t any cops crawling the streets, but close enough that there’s the off chance that gang members might come ripping through in their escape. 

Not that he knows what he’d do if any of them come gunning past. According to the scanner, the Fakes have mostly dispersed and taken off in different directions. His own bike is in the shop so it’s not like he could chase them down if they came past. And the only quasi-weapon he has on hand is a foam baseball bat he’s been meaning to return after that impromptu kids baseball game a few days ago. Competent as he is in melee combat, he knows the chances of coming out unscathed bringing a children’s toy to a gun fight aren’t good. 

Besides, it’s unlikely any of them will come this way.

So, he sits vigil to do the least of what his civic duty asks him to do. Report a sighting should they come this way, and stay out of trouble. 

Or at least that’s his initial plan. 

But then he sees a figure running down the street on foot. They’re too tall to be a child. All the neighborhood kids should be asleep by now, and most of the teens and adults are probably watching the news, awaiting more information on the Fakes’ most recent heist. 

So who the fuck is this?

Alfredo leans over the porch railing, trying to get a better look. They’re doing a good job at dodging the patches of light illuminated by street lamps. It’s hard to make out any defining features, but whoever they are, they’re fuckin’ huge. A massive frame with broad shoulders that seems to be clutching a bag close to their chest. His fingers moving to wrap around the grip of the foam bat. They’re moving like they’ve stolen something, and he frowns. If someone stole something from one of his neighbors, then he’ll be damned if he lets them get away. 

He’s Alfredo Diaz of the motherfucking neighborhood watch. 

He stands up, bat in hand, and the figure freezes about a block away. They both stand stock still. He’s unsure as to whether or not the person can make out his figure. His porch light is dim, and there are trees and bushes in the way that might block the view. But even if they can’t see him, they’re not taking any chances. The movement of him standing was enough to get them to bolt. They cut in between two houses and starts booking it through the backyards. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Alfredo mutters. He leaps off his porch, breaking into a sprint. It doesn’t take him long to track down his target. While the yards offer more places to hide than the open streets, they also slow the thief down. Play structures, gardens, inflatable pools. There are a number of obstacles in the way. And although the thief is incredibly fit, hopping fences with ease, they’re in no way as familiar with the yards as Alfredo is. 

He knows that the Smiths tend to leave their gate door unlocked, so he doesn’t have to leap over the pickets. And that the Robinsons have a tendency of leaving their hose lying about, a constant tripping hazard for anyone who dares trek through their backyard. He also knows that the Yungs and the Sanchezes have a garden tunnel connecting their yards. He uses that to cut the thief off. 

He’s breathing heavily when he corners the person in the Yung’s yard. It’s a messy tackle, but he lunges at the person’s waist, and _Jesus,_ they’re fucking _solid._ “No one escapes the neighborhood watch, bitch!” he yells. He’s not entirely sure what prompted him to say that, but it feels right in the moment. Been a while since he’s felt like a badass. 

They fall to the ground in a pile of flailing limbs and pained grunts. It’s a good thing the Yung’s are on vacation right now. With all the commotion they’re making, he’s sure it would have woken them up. 

They struggle, a fist making contact with Alfredo’s jaw hard enough he thinks a tooth might have been knocked loose. But he manages to pin the guy — and it is a guy — underneath him. Alfredo’s knee is pressed between the guy’s shoulder blades and he’s managed to pin his hands behind his back using the bat. 

Now that he’s up close and personal, he’s got a better look of the guy. Long hair pulled back in a ponytail, leather jacket, black-and-white face paint streaking with sweat, and…. _fuck._ This isn’t some punk thief stealing from his neighbors. 

He’s got the Renegade underneath him. 

Were he any less disciplined or not as well trained, he might have let go out of pure shock. But he keeps bearing his weight down on the infamous criminal because if he doesn’t, odds are he won’t make it out of this alive. 

The Renegade struggles beneath him, kicking his legs and trying desperately to buck him off. He spits out threats, snarling like a feral animal. “Get the fuck off me,” and “Let me go and I’ll let you live,” and, eventually, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Alfredo’s heart is racing. It’s taking all his strength to keep the other man from breaking free. “Mister Renegade,” he grunts, resisting a particularly strong wriggle. “On the authority of the neighborhood watch, I am placing you under arrest for, uh— theft for sure.”

The Renegade stills and turns his head. He glares at Alfredo from over his shoulder. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I…No?” Alfredo responds.

Then the Renegade smirks, and goes lax, no longer struggling against him. “Well, good luck with that,” he says. 

Alfredo doesn’t have time to process just how bad that kind of reaction is when he feels the kiss of metal at the back of his head. He immediately lets go of the bat and brings his hands up.

“Anyone want to explain what the fuck is happening, here?” a feminine voice asks from behind. 

He twists around slowly, swallowing thickly. A red-headed woman stands behind him. She doesn’t look angry, which he supposes is a good sign. Irritated, maybe. Definitely vaguely amused. She lifts an eyebrow pointedly at the Renegade. “Well?”

The Renegade slips out from beneath Alfredo. He grabs the bag and dusts himself off. “Neighborhood watch,” he says. He flashes a smug smile that sends a message, loud and clear: _You’re fucked_. 

But the gun pressed to his head is lowered and the woman looks at the Renegade incredulously. “Neighborhood watch?” she repeats, holstering her weapon and dragging a hand down her face. The Renegade’s grin falters. “You escaped the LSPD but were caught by the _neighborhood watch?_ Are you fucking serious?” The Renegade opens his mouth to defend himself, but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. The car’s ‘round front. Go.”

Alfredo doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone act so meek. It’s a strange look on the Renegade. He watches him sulk his way around the house, and he hears the sound of a car door creaking open and slamming shut. The woman circles around him and sighs. She offers her hand and he hesitantly take it. “What’s you’re name, kid?” she says, pulling him to his feet. 

It’s an awful idea to tell her his name. He knows it is. But she commands such a presence that he can’t help but answer.“D-Diaz,” he stammers.

“Diaz,” she repeats back at him. “Good name. You live around here, Diaz?”

He nods.

“You care about this neighborhood and the people living in it?” 

He nods again. 

“Good,” she says firmly. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to go home and get some rest. Then, tomorrow morning you’re going to make a few calls to some of your neighbors and ask if anyone saw what happened tonight. If they did, assure them that it was nothing to be concerned about. You will make no mentions of what you did or saw tonight to anyone. Not your neighbors, not the police, not even your mother. If you do, we’ll know, and we’ll have to do something about that. You don’t want us to do anything about that, do you?”

“No, ma’am,” he whispers hoarsely. 

She looks at him gently and smiles, patting his cheek. “Good man. Now, get out of here.”

He stares at her in stunned silence, amazed that she’s just letting him go. Unless this is some sort of trick? But with a wave of her hand, he turns on his heel and books it out of there. He doesn’t stop until he reaches his front door, and it’s only then he thinks to look behind him to see if he’s been followed. A quick glance tells him he hasn’t. No cars linger conspicuously on the street, and he doesn’t see anyone lurking around. 

But he doesn’t take any chances. He locks and bars the doors and double checks to make sure his windows are shut tight. Not that he’s sure a simple lock would be enough to stop the Fakes from getting to him if they really wanted to. But as the adrenaline wears off, exhaustion sets in, and his bed looks incredibly comfortable. Tucking a handgun under his pillow, he drifts into restless sleep. 

He’s got a lot to do tomorrow. 

* * *

A week later, a knock comes at his door. He answers it and sees the red-headed woman from before. Standing beside her is a tall man. It takes him a moment to recognize the guy without the face paint, but he realizes it’s the Renegade. His blood runs cold. He fights the urge to slam the door on their faces. He can’t imagine that would go over well. 

Instead, he forces a polite smile. “Can I help you?” he asks. 

The woman looks to the Renegade, who appears thoroughly displeased to be here. “My friend, Rylan, owes you an apology.”

The Renegade — Rylan? — scowls and crosses his arms. “Sorry,” he says, not even bothering to look Alfredo in the eye. The woman elbows him in the ribs. “I’m sorry for threatening to kill you,” he amends. 

Alfredo doesn’t buy it, not with the petulant and unapologetic look in his eyes, but he sure as hell isn’t going to reject it. “I…Sure. Whatever, dude. It’s all good.” 

The woman pats Rylan on the back. “There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” she asks gently. Rylan flushes and grumbles something under his breath, but he nods slightly to appease her. Then she turns to Alfredo and holds out her hand. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

He takes it and gives it a weak shake. “I, uh…Alfredo.” he responds.

“I know,” she says. Because, yeah. Of course she does. She knows where he lives too. Fuck. “Can we come in?”

He freezes. His eyes dart around, quickly taking stock of who’s out and about. A handful of children are playing on the street, and a few people are walking their dogs. As much as he wants to shield innocent civilians from these criminals, he’s also not keen on being alone with them. Witnesses are good. Especially if he’s about to be kidnapped or murdered in broad daylight. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Jack looks at him gently. “We’re not here to hurt you, Alfredo. This is a conversation you don’t want to have out in public.”

“Give me the highlights,” he says, hoping he sounds braver than he really feels. He was less afraid under enemy fire in the desert than he is now. “What’s this about?”

Her gaze flicks back over to Rylan, who’s shoulders nearly cover his ears in a full body pout. “You took down my friend with nothing but a toy baseball bat,” she says with a clandestine smile. “We have a job offer for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @peantutbutter and chat with me!
> 
> EDIT: [ Now with fanart!](https://cool-art-loser.tumblr.com/post/628355059351224320/read-neighborhood-watch-by-peantutbutter-it-made) by the wonderful @cool-art-loser on tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Alfredo Diaz, Neighborhood Watch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150740) by [ffg_podfics (flowersforgraves)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/ffg_podfics)




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